


Don't You Go

by orphan_account



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Cashton stans where you at, M/M, Ugh happy ending, smut-ish?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-04
Updated: 2016-07-04
Packaged: 2018-07-21 13:45:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7389391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ashton and Calum meet at one of those rich people parties and go home together.</p>
<p>One-shot based on ATL's song</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't You Go

Ashton wakes on Saturday morning to nothing but his body telling him maybe it’s time to get up. He turns his head to the right and sees in the clock on his bedside table that it’s almost midday. He yawns and pushes his hair out of his face, and rolls all the way onto his side, shaking the bed. His eyes move a little lower to a torn silver packet on the floor. He flushes red, hot in his face, remembering what actually happened last night. He wishes he hadn’t just shaken the bed so much. It’s rude. The other two packets are on the other side of the bed.

            He pushes himself up a little from the mattress and this time when he rolls over, he barely makes a motion. He lowers himself back down and lets his eyes rest on the sculpted golden back displayed in the light in front of him, surprised to still see it there.

            He remembers clearly when he saw and met Calum yesterday evening.

_He walks into the doorway to the banquet room of the hotel and picks up a champagne glass. He goes into the room and gives quick hellos to people he might recognize if he thinks hard enough. His eyes land on someone he knows is new, and he can suddenly hear the piano in the corner a little better. Someone in a dark grey suit with a sweet smile on his face over a jawline that could cut diamonds, and, oddly enough, his nails painted black. He’s talking to a woman, but she leaves just as Ashton decides maybe he wants to meet this person. Ashton takes his chance and goes to him._

_Ashton says, “I think Tom DeLonge wears black nails from time to time.”_

_The man turns to him and gives him that smile. “He does.”_

_Ashton puts his hand out. “Ashton Irwin.”_

_Calum Hood tells him his name and shakes his hand, and Ashton doesn’t step away for the rest of their time at the party._

            Calum isn’t awake yet. Ashton watches for a moment his soft breathing and the way his body moves up and down ever so slightly with it. Ashton knows the way Calum’s body moves now. But he realizes as he watches him sleep that he wants to know more. He wonders if Calum wants that too.

            Ashton admires Calum already, and not just because of what they did. Calum is mellow and smart and easy to talk to. Ashton remembers what Calum does for his job. Remembers thinking it’s way more interesting than what he does. Thinks now that it really fits Calum perfectly.

_“I’m in marketing,” Ashton tells him._

_Calum nods. “I bet you’ve always been comfortable, haven’t you.” Calum doesn’t say it with any sort of spite. He’s giving Ashton his sweet smile and when he sips his champagne his dark eyes stay locked with Ashton’s._

_Ashton shrugs. “Except when I was in school.”_

_Calum laughs with his eyes. “I can imagine.”_

_“What do you do?”_

_“Surely nothing as sophisticated as you. I only went to school for four years.”_

_It’s the first time Ashton thinks that maybe Calum is flattering him on purpose. That maybe Calum is flirting with him. Maybe Ashton is flirting with Calum too._

_He shakes his head. “That’s ridiculous. All I do is stare at paperwork every day.”_

_“All I do is stare at art.”_

_Ashton’s eyes widen a little. “You’re an artist?” He doesn’t know whether to be surprised or not. This party is high-end; the only people here are those whose salaries have six or more figures in them. Artists typically have…fewer than that. But this is New York. Ashton supposes anything is possible. And it explains the black nails._

_But Calum says, “Sort of. I do love art, but I’m not very good at producing it no matter how hard I try. Do you know of Chromatic? Over on the east side?”_

_Ashton thinks he may have been in the gallery once or twice. It’s interesting—set into sections with one filled with gorgeous nineteenth-century-style pieces and the next with simple black and white linework and the next with fluorescent colors slapped onto canvas. It’s a popular place—lots of high-end dealers go in, he hears. He thinks that it might be the only art gallery he’s ever found the slightest bit interesting or beautiful._

_“I’m vaguely familiar,” he says, curious to see which piece in there is Calum’s._

_“I own it,” Calum says._

_Ashton tries to hide his surprise. That makes Calum far richer than he will ever be—he feels almost ashamed over thinking otherwise. It certainly wasn’t what he was expecting. But he can feel it drawing him in even further than he already is. He tries to hold it back, but the words come slipping out anyway: “Holy shit.”_

_Calum’s smile changes, curling on the corners a little more. For a brief second as he sips his champagne again, his eyes flick over Ashton’s shoulder, past him, to the doorway out of the room. And then they return to Ashton’s eyes and remain once more._

_Ashton knows Calum isn’t looking at anyone that just walked in. Calum is looking at the doorway itself—the way out of this party. The way leading to whichever flat they choose to return to tonight. Ashton feels his belly get hot, and he keeps Calum’s gaze._

            Calum shifts slightly, brings one arm further up above his head. Ashton watches his shoulderblade move under his skin. His beautiful golden brown skin. He remembers asking, when he decided to get his second glass of champagne.

_They’re in Soho, but Calum is clearly from Australia too. When Ashton asks, Calum tells him that his mother is Maori and his father is Scottish._

_“That’s why my skin is the color it is,” he says, and holds up his champagne glass, putting his long fingers on display. It makes Ashton want to see a lot more of his skin._

_Ashton feels himself getting fuzzier inside. He doesn’t know if it’s the champagne or Calum’s presence. He’s pretty sure it’s the latter, and so he decides to keep drinking to take his nerves away. A waiter walks by and he takes another glass from his tray, putting the empty one in its place._

_Calum only continues to smile at him._

            Ashton wants to reach out and touch Calum’s back, slide his hand along and down it like he’d done after they left the party, when they were deciding which way to go—north to the well-off businessman’s flat, or east to the gallerist’s penthouse apartment.

_A man who looks like he probably makes his money selling B-grade bonds to unsuspecting customers at his firm walks by and bumps Calum’s shoulder, knocking him sideways a little._

_Calum regains his balance and lifts his eyebrows, still smiling at Ashton. “Well, then. I suppose he was in a hurry.”_

_“That was incredibly rude,” Ashton says, frowning over at the man’s back. “He didn’t even apologize.”_

_“It is getting crowded in here,” Calum says evenly, pulling Ashton’s gaze back to him._

_Ashton shifts on his feet. “It is, isn’t it.”_

_“Too much for my liking. My gallery has a maximum occupation limit of fifty people at once. So that people can enjoy the artwork that’s been put in front of them without having to worry about other people around them.” Calum’s eyes drag down Ashton’s body as he speaks, and then lift back to his face again._

_Ashton’s on his third glass by that point, Calum on his second, and Ashton knows if there’s ever going to be a time to suggest leaving, it’s now._

_“You’re right,” he says. “It’s busy in here. I’d like a little more space. Care to join me?”_

_Calum smiles again and nods, taking a final sip of his champagne and saying, “I’d be happy to.”_

_They return their glasses to the front table as they walk out of the hall, not bothering to give anyone a glance goodbye._

_The alcohol has definitely helped Ashton. The nerves he felt gazing back into Calum’s chocolate eyes have turned into sparkling embers instead. They pass the threshold of the doorway to the party and it’s as if it were a sound barrier. It’s very quiet out in the hallways of the hotel at this hour, and nobody is around. They begin down the corridors leading out to the parking lot._

_“Wow,” Calum says. “It’s so quiet. You never really notice how loud a place is until you leave it. I wonder if we were shouting at each other.”_

_“I don’t think you needed to shout for me to hear you,” Ashton says, looking forward. He can feel Calum turn sideways and smile at him again. Good. It’s what he wanted._

_They round a corner that leads into a velvet-carpeted hallway, cool tiles on one wall and landscape windows on the other, looking out to the city lights. Ashton knows that the windows are tinted black from the outside, so nobody could see them, even if there were someone out there. But there isn’t._

_“Just as well,” Calum replies. “Shouting is an ugly form of—”_

_Ashton puts his hands on Calum’s hips and pushes him gently against the tiles and leans in close. “Communication,” he says, and presses his lips firmly against Calum’s. It’s slow, soft, essentially close-mouthed. Then Ashton slips his tongue into Calum’s mouth and it becomes wet and deep and heavy._

_But after a moment, Calum grips Ashton’s sides and turns them around and pushes Ashton not-so-gently against the tiles instead. He puts his body up against Ashton’s and spreads his legs a little so Ashton can’t move. It’s all right. Ashton hasn’t even thought of moving. Calum hooks his thumbs into Ashton’s belt and pulls at his hips, pressing them against his own._

_Ashton makes a noise and Calum stops it with his mouth. Calum’s kiss is ravenous—hot and messy. He pulls at Ashton’s lip with his teeth and he presses his hips against Ashton’s and Ashton struggles not to squirm._

_Calum’s mouth moves down to Ashton’s jaw and then his neck. Ashton closes his eyes, lips parted and swollen, and leans his head back against the tile and breathes. “Where are we going?” he asks._

_Calum’s fingers play across his hips and Ashton shudders as Calum says, warm against his neck, “Yours.”_

_“Okay,” Ashton breathes out, and Calum leaves a gentle bite on the tender skin over his pulse. Then Calum comes back up and the kiss starts again and Ashton puts his arms around Calum’s back, slipping his hand along and down it, underneath his jacket, as Calum slides his tongue heavily over his._

Calum moves again, his legs this time, and the sheets pull further down away from his body, exposing his lower back just where it starts to curve. Ashton bites his lip, controlling himself, making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid. All he knows right now is that he wants Calum to stay. He doesn’t want Calum to leave after their one-night stand. But if it was only going to be once, then why was Calum still here with him?

            Ashton wants Calum to wake up and roll over and kiss him softly, as if they’ve been together for years. He knows that’s probably not going to happen. He’s probably going to have to be content with what he received and gave last night. Not that it wasn’t everything he could have asked for.

_Ashton knows as he unlocks the door to his flat that they probably annoyed the cab driver on the way back here. But it couldn’t be the first time a cabbie had two men making out in the backseat for five miles of light evening traffic. They tipped him well anyway._

_Ashton opens the door and holds it for Calum, who thanks him and steps through. Ashton follows, and locks it again right away._

_He turns around and puts his keys on the table by the door and Calum is already taking off his jacket, letting it drop off his body._

_“It’s a beautiful flat,” Calum says as he pulls off his tie. It goes to the floor by his feet with his jacket that probably cost twice as much as Ashton’s. “I like your decorating style.”_

_“Thank you,” Ashton says, watching._

_Calum smiles at him and starts to unbutton his shirt._

_Ashton can’t say anything. He’s just standing there waiting to see the richly-colored Maori skin he’s been wanting to lay eyes on the whole evening. Calum finishes with the buttons and slips the shirt off his shoulders. It dangles at his hips until he tugs it out of his waistband and drops it. Calum stops and lets Ashton stare._

_Calum’s skin, Calum’s body, Calum’s multiple tattoos, are all stunning. Ashton thinks himself fairly fit but Calum is even better. Ashton is muscular but he’s still skinny; Calum’s body is more developed, fuller, both softer and stronger looking. Ashton can’t look away._

_“Will I be the only one naked for this?” Calum asks, chuckling, as he goes for the buckle of his belt and starts walking towards the hallway to find the bedroom._

_Ashton watches him go for a moment, seeing Calum let the belt fall with a_ chink _to the floor. Calum turns around and backpedals for a few steps, grinning and putting his arms out to say_ What are you doing? Come here already. _Ashton stutter steps and finally as he starts to move he takes his jacket off and drops it behind him, flicking off the light in the living room as he follows into the bedroom._

            Ashton feels himself starting to get hard. He frowns and pushes it away. He doesn’t want Calum to wake up with him like that. It’d be embarrassing and kind of gross. He tucks his legs up and tries to stop, but he can’t help but think about what went on under these very sheets not eight hours ago.

_They fuck once and have sex twice, two hours between each. The first time—the quick, hard, dirty, loud time—it’s Ashton on his back with Calum on his knees, Ashton’s legs hooked over Calum’s arms and his hips lifted up off the mattress. The angle is insane, and every time Calum thrusts into him it sends lightning through his bones. Ashton screams when he comes, and it gets everywhere—the sheets and his chest and even some on his jaw, which he makes a noise at and whips his head to the side as if he could avoid it happening. Calum pumps into him six more times and then he comes too, spilling thick into the condom Ashton gave him, the packet of which now lies on the floor to the left side of the bed. Then Calum puts Ashton’s legs down and gets down on his hands and knees and uses his mouth to clean Ashton’s skin, starting at his chest and trailing upwards with his tongue, kissing at Ashton’s jaw to get the last little bit. Ashton breathes heavily as Calum’s lips roam his body, and then Calum lays down beside him and pulls the condom off his length—also not what Ashton had been expecting when Calum first took his pants off, and that time he felt a different kind of shame but Calum made sure to make Ashton feel good about himself. Ashton knows that if he tried to take Calum in his mouth like Calum had done to him before he fucked him, he would have choked. Calum didn’t choke. Calum took everything and didn’t even flinch. When Calum rolls off the condom, Ashton tells him where the bathroom is. Calum says that he’ll clean up even though they’re just going to do it again in a bit. Ashton blushes hard as Calum gets up and goes to the bathroom._

_The second time—after they spent their two hours staring at the ceiling, Ashton listening intently to Calum talk about modernist artwork and the pricks he has to deal with nearly every day at work—it’s slower. They get under the sheets and this time Ashton puts on the condom, dropping the foil to the right side of the bed, as Calum lies in wait. Calum’s black nails scratch lightly down Ashton’s back and his sides while Ashton pushes into him. The moans that come out of Calum’s mouth send tingles across Ashton’s skin. Calum’s thighs tighten on Ashton’s hips when Ashton brings his hand between their bodies and wraps it around Calum, squeezing gently and moving it up and down. When Calum comes, he presses his face into Ashton’s neck and gives a long breathy moan, and Ashton’s heart thumps wildly in his chest. Not from exertion—this was easy and slow and wonderful—but from some feeling that’s trying to worm its way into his heart and brain. He’s still trying to identify it when he comes and it blocks everything out except the pleasure of Calum warm around him. He moans too, and before he squeezes his eyes shut he thinks he sees Calum staring into his face, smiling softly._

_This time Ashton talks for most of the two hours. He tells Calum about his family back in Australia, about his seven years in university at Melbourne—which Calum congratulates him for. He tells Calum how he’d cried when his Masters thesis was rejected on his first try, and he feels Calum’s fingertips touch his side. He tells Calum how elated he was when he spent three months perfecting his paper, revisiting all his research and rereading every page four times, and they’d taken it and told him what a good job he’d done. He tells Calum about how he’d cried again when he’d gotten his graduate degree, and he says with a blush that he framed it and hung it in his office down the hall. He hopes Calum will say let’s go look, but Calum doesn’t. He just congratulates Ashton again and says that he never could have done what he did—that he burned out after a Bachelor’s in fine arts and a minor in management, and moved here from Oz because he didn’t know where else he could possibly go where he could have any chance of having a career with the education he had. Ashton starts to ask how Calum managed to become the owner of his gallery when Calum sits up against the headboard and tells Ashton to get on top of him._

_And so for the third time, Ashton puts the condom on Calum and drops the foil to his right. Ashton rides Calum while Calum holds onto his hips and squeezes his thighs. Ashton puts his hands against Calum’s smooth chest and moves his body up and down, letting his head tilt back and his hair fall down. He feels himself sink all the way onto Calum and watches Calum’s eyes flutter closed and his lips part. Calum takes Ashton in his hand and they come nearly at the same time. Ashton clenches as he starts to ride out their highs but Calum pulls him forward and kisses him hard. Ashton is surprised but pleased and when his lips meet Calum’s, Calum squeezes him, and Ashton moans out into his mouth. Calum smiles against his lips as Ashton tries not to be too loud. Calum holds Ashton’s back and Ashton puts one of his hands up on the headboard and kisses Calum firmly as they finish releasing._

_Ashton pulls off of Calum and sits back on Calum’s thighs, looking into Calum’s face and catching his breath. He wants to say something, but he doesn’t know what. Calum just smiles at him and says he’s tired. Ashton nods and climbs off him, asks if he wants the bathroom first, offers a shower. Calum accepts both, and goes into the bathroom for ten minutes, comes back naked with combed wet hair and stands next to the bed while Ashton looks up at him. Calum says he really is very tired. Ashton says he believes him, so is he. Ashton doesn’t offer what he knows Calum wants him to offer. Ashton wants Calum to make the decision on his own. Eventually, Calum does, and he climbs back under the covers and lies down next to Ashton. He doesn’t say anything else, but he tilts his head sideways to look at Ashton and gives him another smile before he rolls onto his stomach and turns his face away from Ashton, bringing his arms up by his head. He doesn’t move the rest of the night, appears to fall asleep very quickly._

_Ashton lays awake for a time he can’t calculate. He makes an effort not to look over at Calum in his bed. A few times he’s unable to keep himself from doing it, but after another while his eyelids start to droop. He tucks the covers up to his chin. He falls asleep._

            Ashton sighs. He puts his hands on his stomach and crosses his fingers together so he won’t let his hands roam around the sheets. But he doesn’t have to wait very long. All at once Calum draws in a deep breath and the muscles in his back move as he pushes up off his chest onto his elbows and rubs his face. And then he turns to face Ashton and lies on his side. He blinks once, looks sleepy but rested. Ashton works very hard not to look down between Calum’s legs—the sheets have pulled down even more and expose Calum just slightly.

            But then Ashton finds that it isn’t difficult at all to look at Calum’s face. His skin is still just as golden and his dark eyes are lidded. He doesn’t have that puffiness that most normal people get from sleep, save for his hair, which, to Ashton’s surprise, is naturally curly. For some reason Ashton likes that Calum is vain enough about himself to straighten it for work or an evening banquet.

            And then Calum smiles at him—that same sweet smile.

            “Good morning,” Ashton says softly.

            “Good morning. It’s late. I’ve slept far too long.”

            Ashton feels panic in his chest suddenly. “Have you?”

            “Mhm.”

            “It’s the weekend,” Ashton says. “You shouldn’t have anywhere to go.”

            “I do own the second biggest art gallery this side of the city, even if it’s closed on the weekends.”

            Ashton blushes. “Well…no need to brag.”

            Calum smiles again. “I didn’t mean to. I’m just saying that I really do have things.”

            “Things,” Ashton says. Briefly he wonders if Calum already has a partner. But then he’s sure Calum wouldn’t be the kind of person to cheat. He doesn’t know why, but he’s sure.

            “Mhm.”

            Ashton sniffs. “So…you want to go?”

            Calum doesn’t answer for a minute. He blinks over at Ashton again and says, “I have a business to run…” But he says it like he’s not very convinced of it himself this morning.

            So Ashton prods into it. “Yeah? Do you?”

            “I do.” Calum props up on his elbow, leans his head on his palm.

            Ashton holds back a smile. “Oh.”

            Calum is about to say something else but Ashton leans over and kisses him chastely. He pulls back an inch, waits to see what Calum will do. This will answer the one question on his mind.

            Calum does nothing for what feels like a long time, but then he leans back toward Ashton and kisses him again. They lie down, scoot closer to each other. Ashton takes Calum’s face in his hand and Calum wraps his arm over Ashton’s hip. They kiss, long and slow, bathed in the white light of eleven o’clock, for a while.

            Eventually, Calum pulls his lips away, but leaves his forehead pressed to Ashton’s. He says, “I really should get home. I have a lot of work to do.”

            Ashton raises his eyebrows. “I thought you said you just stare at art.”

            Calum laughs a little. “It’s hard work. But really. I have papers to fill out, people to call.”

            “Don’t,” Ashton says. “Don’t go. Stay here.”

            Calum pauses. “Here with you,” he says, and it’s not a question.

            Ashton nods. “I have work too but there’s nothing else I want to do today but be right here with you. Just…stay with me. For the weekend. Or even just…just give me one more night with you. You must want to.”

            Calum smiles. “Why do you say that?”

            Ashton answers immediately. “Because you’re still here. You didn’t go home last night. You could have said your goodbyes or even not said anything and left and carried on with your life without ever seeing me again but you didn’t. You’re still here with me.”

            Calum thinks about that for a moment. He shifts in the bed, splays his fingers out over Ashton’s lower back. “Maybe I was just _really_ tired.”

            Ashton can tell Calum has already agreed in his mind to stay by the way Calum is smiling at him and joking with him. He’s so relieved. So happy. “Maybe. But it was a one-night stand until I woke up here next to you. So it’s your fault it’s more. Your problem you have to stay with me now.”

            “God,” Calum says, and groans. “I can’t believe it. You’re right. All my fault. This is the worst fate I could possibly have.”

            Ashton grins and giggles. “So you’ll stay? Until the week starts again?”

            “Two more days,” Calum says. “Today and tomorrow. Then I really have to go. The gallery opens again and I need to be there.”

            Ashton’s grin widens and he kisses Calum’s nose. “Am I pushing my luck?”

            This time Calum answers immediately. “Absolutely.”

            Ashton laughs. “Good.”

            Calum kisses him again, and pulls his body close to press up against his own.

            Ashton doesn’t know whether the end of the weekend means the end of this thing. But he does know that he expected to wake up with Calum gone, and Calum wasn’t. So maybe if he expects Calum to forget him after Monday morning, Calum won’t. Maybe. He’ll have to see how the rest of the weekend goes. Maybe he’ll hate the way Calum eats or maybe he’ll find out that Calum doesn’t listen to music very much. Maybe something will happen that’ll make it easier on Ashton when Calum leaves him in two days. But then, maybe Calum won’t leave him. Calum might go, but maybe he won’t leave. At this point, Ashton has no idea. He doesn’t plan on thinking about it for two days. All he wants for that time is what’s already right in front of him, after a loud crowded banquet and three glasses of champagne and a kiss in the hall and a short ride north and an incredible long night that went by way too fast.

            Ashton thinks in his head without saying it aloud: _Don’t you go._

            And inside his own head—he fancies that maybe Calum heard him as he presses his lips to his—he hears the answer: _I won’t._

**Author's Note:**

> Any quotes, song titles/lyrics, and things of that type are not my work and I take no credit for them (though I do thank those who made them for their incredible artistry).


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